Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

WHEN GRAY TOLD CASSIE that Donovan was going to be her shadow, she hadn’t been completely surprised. Everyone was convinced that someone was out to get her, and it was definitely freaking her out.

Having Donovan around on Sunday had been nice, but she’d been so busy that she’d barely had time to do more than nod in his direction.

Now it was Monday. Her kitchen was far from being back to normal, but they’d bluffed their way through the weekend by offering the guests an “exclusive” alfresco dining experience. It had been an unparalleled success.

Her kitchen. In all the chaos of the weekend, Bronwyn had made time to offer Cassie a permanent position as the chef at Hideaway, and it had taken an extraordinary amount of self-control for her not to immediately say yes.

She wanted the job. But could she stay if someone was so determined to get her off the premises that they would steal things, vandalize the kitchen, possibly stab her tire, and then try to cause a car wreck?

She forced the questions and doubts from her mind and went to work. Her staff was on fire tonight, and even with the inconveniences of working in less-than-optimal conditions, they were killing it. Even the servers had gotten in on the action by delivering beverages to the chefs. They made to-go cups filled with sweet tea and the house special that Cassie had introduced on her first night—honey lemonade. They’d decorated each cup with the names of each chef and line cook, and included little slogans like “You’re the best” and “Foodies forever” and her personal favorite, “The chef is always right.”

She plated her last dish and accepted a refill on lemonade. “Thank you.” She took a long drink and watched the server as he returned to the kitchen. He looked so familiar, but she couldn’t place him. If she decided to take the job permanently, she’d have to find a better way to interact with the servers. She didn’t like not knowing everyone’s names, but in the month she’d been here, she’d only interacted with a handful of the front of house staff.

She stifled a yawn. Maybe she should have gone with tea instead of lemonade. The caffeine jolt might have helped her power through. Although based on how heavy her head and neck were feeling at the moment, there wasn’t enough caffeine in the universe to keep her going for much longer.

“Cassie! One of the guests would like a photo.”

She blinked several times. Was the room spinning? She focused on the server who’d made the request. “Give me a second to change my jacket.”

Cassie was a neat chef. It was a point of pride to keep her chef whites white. But that didn’t mean she didn’t look a little rough around the edges by the end of the night, which was why she always kept a sparkling clean chef’s jacket at the ready for the always photo-hungry guests. The guests weren’t allowed to post the photos on social media during their stay. But that didn’t mean they didn’t post when they left. And she wanted to represent The Haven well.

She fumbled with her buttons as she walked to the back of the kitchen.

Donovan, her perpetual shadow, followed her. He’d done a good job of being unobtrusive. But she was starting to chafe at his constant presence since the tension between them continued to increase. Had they made up? Were they back together? She honestly didn’t know. They’d been interrupted before they’d had a chance to define the relationship. And she needed that conversation to happen sooner than later.

“You’re tired.” Donovan’s observation carried nothing but concern.

“Yeah.” She wanted to say more, but her mouth wasn’t working quite right.

“Is it always this busy on Mondays?”

“No.” Mondays at The Haven were typically the slowest night of the week. But tonight she’d been booked solid from six to nine. She got the final button off and Donovan helped her take off the jacket. When she reached for the photo jacket, all crisp and professional looking, he took it from her and held it out.

“Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re allowed to be tired, Cassie. You aren’t normally here eighteen hours a day the way you’ve been since Saturday. You haven’t had a chance to catch your breath.”

She rubbed her forehead. “You’ve been putting in even longer hours. Why aren’t you about to fall asleep on the floor?” Because she seriously was. She swayed and bumped into the wall. “Whoa.”

Donovan was in front of her. When had he moved in front of her?

He took over the buttons, and she let him. “Cassie? Are you okay?”

She blinked a few more times and the room stopped tilting sideways. “I don’t think I realized how tired I am.” She had to concentrate hard to form the words, and she wasn’t sure if they were coming out quite right.

Donovan finished the buttons. “Promise me you won’t drive yourself home.”

That was a promise she had no difficulty making. “Promise.”

Donovan didn’t look convinced, but he stepped back and followed her into the kitchen. “I have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“Is it normal for Steven Pierce to stop by?”

Cassie couldn’t tell if Donovan was asking as a cop or as a jealous, well, whatever he was. “He pops in a couple of times a week. Technically, all dining at The Haven falls under his purview.”

“What did he want tonight?”

“Um?” What did he ask? Her head was so fuzzy. Oh. Steven. “He said he wanted to tell me in person how much he appreciated my efforts over the weekend.”

“Huh.”

They hit the swinging doors that led out of the kitchen and into the main dining room. She tried to hurry to the photo op, but her legs and arms didn’t want to move the way she wanted them to. What was going on with her? The guests were going to think she’d been sipping on more than lemonade tonight.

DONOVAN STAYED OUT of the range of cameras and phones while Cassie accepted kudos from a movie star who’d recently won an Oscar. One of the servers leaned around the group taking photos and pointed toward the door. “I don’t want to intrude, but the porch with the fireplace makes for some gorgeous evening photos.”

Donovan watched as the whole crowd immediately abandoned their meals and trooped outside, Cassie companionably squashed between the Oscar winner and his producer girlfriend. At least they were almost done for the night. Amos had finished plating the desserts, and he could handle closing up the kitchen. He and Cassie were on much better terms now. They’d had a little chat on Saturday, and as far as Donovan could tell, Amos was Team Cassie all the way. He hoped he wasn’t wrong about that.

Donovan slipped outside and paused by the door to the restaurant. In between the crush of guests, he could just make out Cassie posing for a photo with yet another celebrity.

He doubted anyone else would be able to tell, but he could see the strain on her face and the way her smile was forced.

That decided it for him. He was taking Cassie home after she came back inside. She was so tired she was starting to slur her speech. He made a mental note for the future: Cassie Quinn would quite literally work herself to death if not protected from her own off-the-charts work ethic.

A few minutes later, a wave of laughing guests returned to the dining room. He held the door open for the first guest, then the next. One man who looked vaguely familiar extended his hand.

“Thank you, Officer. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let me come do a ride-along with you sometime?”

The other guests swirled around them and continued to filter inside.

“I’m playing a cop in my next movie. My agent’s lined up a few things for me in LA, but I’d really like to get the small-town experience.”

The last thing Donovan wanted to do was chauffeur an actor for a day, but he forced a polite smile. The line of returning guests had almost dissipated. Where was Cassie?

Of course she would agree to take pictures until the last guest was satisfied, even though she could barely stay upright.

Donovan focused on the man. “I’m afraid that’s not my call to make. Have your agent call our chief of police, Grayson Ward.”

“I’ll do that, man. Thank you.” He shook his hand again, and when Donovan looked back to the fireplace, the porch was empty.

He walked all three sides of the porch.

No Cassie.

He called her phone. A male voice answered. “Cassie Quinn’s phone. Donovan?”

“Amos? Why do you have Cassie’s phone?”

“It was in her coat pocket. I heard it ringing, looked at it, and saw it was you. So I answered it. Where are you?”

Donovan walked off the steps and into the green space around the restaurant. “Did Cassie come back in a side door?”

“No. I assumed she was with you.”

“She isn’t with me. I’m outside, and I don’t see her anywhere.”

“Well, she has to be out there somewhere. It’s not like she could disappear into thin air.”

TEN AGONIZING MINUTES LATER, Donovan no longer agreed with Amos. Cassie Quinn had most definitely disappeared into thin air. She was gone. He stood in the security office and fought back panic as one of the guards whose name he’d already forgotten pulled up the footage for the camera near Hideaway.

“There.” The guard pointed to the screen. On the far edge of the back parking lot, a small person in a white coat climbed into the back of a white van. She didn’t appear to be under duress, but the image was too far away to be certain.

“What is that vehicle?”

“Give me a second.” The guard’s hands were a blur as he typed something and then used the mouse to click through several screens. “That’s the laundry service we use. They provide overnight dry cleaning for the guests.”

“Are they usually here at this time?”

“Yeah. Standard stuff.” The guard turned, and Donovan saw his name tag. Larry pointed to the screen. “The housekeeping staff brings out the bags, loads them onto the van, and they take them away. I’m not sure where. They make two stops here each day. The first stop is around 3:00 p.m. Then they keep going to some other places dropping off and picking up. They stop here again in the evening because our guests are special, and we offer a last-minute option. I’m pretty sure we’re the last stop on their route.”

“Find out where they go from here.”

The guard didn’t balk at the order. Thanks to a unique set of decisions made decades earlier, The Haven, while quite a few miles from the main part of town, was under the jurisdiction of the Gossamer Falls Police Department. And that meant Donovan could take charge of the investigation.

“Larry, get the make, model, and license plate for that van while you’re at it.” Donovan pointed to another guard. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Belinda.”

“Okay, Belinda. You’re going to get on the phone. You’re going to call Bronwyn Pierce and get her over here. Then you’re going to call the front gate and tell them to let in any official who shows up.” He paused a second. “Or any of the Quinns.” Because they were going to blow a gasket.

Both Larry and Belinda got to work.

He called Gray. “Gray. Cassie’s missing.”